Chapter Text
"Raven...I still believe..."
"...our shared dream."
The ignited Coral from the Xylem impacting the Condenser continues on and on at a rapid pace, scorching everything in it's path-- the AC that Raven was in was pushed to the absolute limit in trying to outrun the destruction that they had caused, but it was a wasted effort-- the heat continually reached the cockpit and anything that wasn't metal began to suffer-- and the metal itself was hot to the touch.
Raven, in their last moments, wondered if the decision they made was the right one-- after all, everyone they knew was dead, even if not by their hand directly. But suddenly, everything went blindingly white...then completely black.
"I'm sorry, Ayre."
The absolute creeping darkness that had overtaken 621's death is taken away whenever the lights of the hangar come launching back into their eyes, a gasp of breath taking their usually calm demeanor as panic settles in, eyes going left to right, right to left, before centering upon the AC that sat in it's maintenance bay. Their breathing starts to calm as the feeling of death is slowly overruled by confusion. "That was a dream?"
The thought is pierced and discarded by the COM system lighting up in front of 621's eyes, they have to blink a few times before readjusting properly to the screen, the barren voice of ALLMIND droning about how their records have updated--
"Wait."
["REMOVING MIA STATUS, RESTORING ACCESS PRIVILEGES."]
No, this has happened before.
["THIS IS ALLMIND, THE MERCENARY SUPPORT SYSTEM."]
["...WELCOME BACK, RAVEN."]
At first it felt like a severe case of deja vu, yet 621 couldn't help but remember this exact moment-- as soon as it was done extrapolating on the fact that they, 'Raven', were back in active service, Walter--
"Looks like you passed the authentication." Walter's familiar voice comes through the COM. It made 621 grit his teeth.
"'Raven'. That's who you are now, here on Rubicon." The small pause before he initiates what 'Raven' feels like the killing blow to any notion that what happened before was merely a dream:
"I've picked up some work for you, already. Take a look, 621." The COM closes, and a little blinking indicator where said aforementioned jobs sat, waiting for 'Raven' to take them, and to yet again spill more blood on Rubiconian soil.
"Is this hell?"
'Raven' has to examine their surroundings to make sure everything was real, hands touching every surface, desperately hoping that this wasn't where they were locked in every time death came for them-- and yet, all of the metal pieces in their dusty, or rusted, or old condition all felt real, the wiring, even the holograms that're intangible with the rest of the world beyond the tiniest of touches felt real when the display distorted around their hand.
"This is hell."
An assertation of the situation that was the only acceptable one to them, yet...the blinking of the jobs they had done prior compelled them. Was this not Hell, and actually a chance at what they thought in their final moments as sizzling Coral turned them to unrecognizable ash? Maybe...maybe not, there was only one way to find out, instead of silently freaking out in the hangar bay.
A finger presses the display for jobs, and 'Raven' once again takes flight, for better or worse.